


From Some Lost and Distant Shore

by patientalien



Series: Tell Them You're Never Coming Back [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/pseuds/patientalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin doesn't know who he is anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Some Lost and Distant Shore

**Author's Note:**

> In the "Without Granting Innocence" universe. AU post-RotS. Title from "Hymn for the Missing" by Red. 
> 
> warning(s): Very bleak material ahead, might be triggering for SI, depression, PTSD, suicide, substance abuse, character death, etc.

Every so often, he feels strong enough to take a shower. The scalding water flows down his back and he closes his eyes, letting the tears disappear into the spray. He can't control when that happens anymore. Sometimes he'll just be sitting on the windowsill, or reading on the few occasions he can keep the words from swimming around, and the tears will come, hot and insistent, silently dripping down his face until Obi-Wan comes and wipes them away. The thought of Obi-Wan twists his gut, and the tears fall harder, silently - no sobs or cries anymore - as he manages to wash himself, wincing as the soap hits the fresh wounds on his arm. He considers adding to their number as he shaves, but he has a ritual, and he doesn't want to ruin this brief moment of clarity of thought.

And then he is back on Jabiim. The rain slams against his body and the fear and grief are so overwhelming he drops to his knees in the mud. He cradles a fellow Padawan's body close to him, hears the Clones shouting in the distance, his braid hanging heavy over his ear. Explosions ring over his head and he can hear the orders to retreat and his name repeated over and over...

And when he comes back to himself, he is wrapped in blankets on the sofa and Obi-Wan is peering at him critically, warily, like he is some kind of injured wild animal who might strike at any moment. He supposes he is, which is not a particularly comforting thought. "Where did you go?" Obi-Wan asks, handing him a mug of tea. 

"Jabiim," Anakin manages, sipping the warm liquid, surprised at how cold he is. "I don't usually go that far back." It is disconcerting, and Anakin scowls that he now has one more thing to worry about, to dread. Jabiim, at least, was not his fault, but it is another reminder of how Palpatine pulled the strings. "It's not his fault, either," he growls to himself. "It's mine." He's well aware of the distinction, now. He drops the mug onto the table. 

He feels Obi-Wan shift beside him, can sense as clearly as if he could still tap into the Force, the man's discomfort. He does this to Obi-Wan. It's his fault Obi-Wan's here, his fault Obi-Wan is sad and uncomfortable and everything else. 

He leans over, pressing his forearms against his temples, lacing his fingers behind his head, drawing his knees to his chest. He needs to be as small as possible, needs to make sure he is not taking up so much space. When he was still himself, whenever that was, people called him 'larger than life', his presence overshadowing everything around him. Now it's different, now he wants to disappear, because wanting to be in the spotlight partially led down this path.

So many things, he is coming to realize, have led him and Obi-Wan here. He dissects them, picks himself apart. He moans low in his throat, his frustration with himself a weight he has to somehow release. The moan continues until he is wordlessly screaming into the blankets, unable to stop himself.

Obi-Wan sits beside him, and waits it out.

0000000

"I'm going to get some supplies," Obi-Wan tells him a few days later. He knows the next words are going to be an entreaty to leave the house, to join him. Sure enough... "Why don't you come with me? It would be good for you to get out for a while."

"I don't know why you keep asking," Anakin replies, unable to muster the enthusiasm or energy to raise his voice above a murmur. "The answer will always be no."

Obi-Wan, as always, looks disappointed, but perhaps not overly so. Anakin imagines the other man is glad for these times, when he doesn't have to worry about walking on eggshells, waiting for the next outburst. Obi-Wan can escape for these short periods of time, but Anakin can't. Even if he joined the man who used to be his friend, he cannot be certain he won't lose himself in public, that he'll be able to hold everything together. That he won't hurt anyone. 

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asks, but he is already pulling on his robe. Anakin nods, his thoughts already sliding to what he will do in Obi-Wan's absence. "I'll be back soon," Obi-Wan says. "Be... be safe."

He says it every time he leaves, as if saying the words will really make it so, will truly keep Anakin safe while Obi-Wan's not there to protect him from himself. It's okay, though; Anakin has ways of protecting himself, coping mechanisms he only uses when he's alone.

As soon as Obi-Wan is gone, Anakin opens the bottle. He tries not to think about the steps he'd gone through to get the Wheryn's Reserve, but using his mechanical prowess for their few neighbors in exchange for the stuff is a small price to pay for the relief it can bring. He doesn't do it while Obi-Wan is around; his former Master's presence is enough to keep him from hurting himself too badly. But when Obi-Wan is gone, the barriers are too, and he can't keep the thoughts from intruding - how easy it would be to end it all. So he does this instead, and it makes things easier, until Obi-Wan gets back.

0000000

He is standing in the middle of the Council chambers, hands behind his back, trembling with anticipation, dizzy, swaying. "You are on this Council," Mace Windu tells him, "but we do not grant you the rank of Master."

Fury bubbles up inside him, the inequity of it. He is ten times the Jedi any of them are, and they would deny him his Mastery? Part of him recognizes that this is merely memory, and that part of him clamps down on his immediate reaction - his true reaction. Hubris, his downfall. He sinks to his knees as Obi-Wan informs them, "The boy is dangerous."

_The boy is dangerous._

Well, Obi-Wan always did have to be right, but soon the memory washes away.

0000000

If Obi-Wan recognizes it when he returns, if he can smell the whiskey on Anakin's breath or notices the extra glassiness of his eyes or the way Anakin jerkily shoves the bottle under the sofa as he enters, he doesn't say anything. He simply puts the groceries away. "Are you okay?" is the most he asks, but that is because he is making sure Anakin has not participated in any of his usual blood-letting rituals in his absence. He doesn't understand that Anakin saves those rituals for when Obi-Wan is here; he doesn't notice that Anakin has no desire to actually die - because that would mean he is no longer being punished. And oh, he still deserves to be punished.

"Like you care," Anakin replies before he can stop himself. Even with the warm glow of the drink coating his nerves, he is still feeling the ever-present ache of melancholy, that doubt of Obi-Wan's true intentions. He didn't mean to say the words, but they slip out nonetheless. 

Obi-Wan tenses, and seems to want to reply, but instead he shakes his head. Anakin growls to himself, annoyed that now he has to either go to bed or pretend he hasn't done what he's done and can't let the warmth overtake him and let the feelings float away. "What do you want for dinner?" Obi-Wan asks, as if Anakin hadn't just snapped at him.

"I'm not hungry," Anakin responds dully. He's not, either. He rarely is anymore, only eating when he feels like he's going to pass out - and sometimes not even then. Sometimes he just lets his body shut down for a while, and he feels like he wants to do that now. He needs to punish himself for his transgression this afternoon, for daring to try and help himself feel better. He doesn't deserve to feel better. He doesn't deserve to let the memories flood away on a tide of Wheryn's. He needs to live with them, examine them, turn them over and over and never let the screams of the Younglings, of the Separatist leadership, of Mace Windu, of Ahsoka and Padme, be silenced. 

He misses his apprentice. He misses his wife. He misses the Order, and his easy relationship with Obi-Wan; he misses Rex and Cody and his starfighter. He misses Artoo. He misses himself, and knows he is never going to get any of it back, and it's entirely his own fault. He shivers and wraps himself in his blanket, feeling the tears come again and powerless to stop them. He used to be so powerful. And yet he'd wanted more. And now he is completely powerless, completely cut off from everything that once made him who he was. "I don't know who I am," he blurts out. 

Obi-Wan stares at him, then lowers his head. "I can no longer tell you," he says, and the words cut across Anakin's mind like a razor blade. Since coming here, Obi-Wan has not offered any words of wisdom, any comfort besides the small kindness of speaking to him at all, of caring for him as one would an unpleasant pet. Anakin cannot blame him, but the phantom memory of what Obi-Wan would have once said hurts.

Anakin pushes himself off the sofa and goes into the 'fresher, and he bleeds.


End file.
